


Turns Out She's A Devil

by vondrostes



Category: Lacrosse RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: (implied) - Freeform, (mild), Barebacking, Bottom Harry, Canon Compliant, Cissexism, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Feminine Harry, Feminization, Genderfluid Harry Styles, Genderplay, Harry in Panties, Impregnation Kink, Improper Kink Negotiation, M/M, Xander POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15884292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: When Xander walked back into the hotel room, the last thing he expected to find was Harry sitting naked in the jacuzzi tub with paint on his nails and shaving cream slathered along his legs.





	Turns Out She's A Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Clarified Warnings: heavy genderplay themes, cisnormativity from Xander, one brief mention of pregnancy kink, improper kink negotiation, & the implication that Harry's preferences extend outside the bedroom
> 
> I actually started writing this right after Harry made that joke about being pregnant in Detroit, and then I chickened out of actually finishing it until now. So here it is. This is also a fic that may turn into a longer genderfluid Harry story someday down the road, so if you like it, please let me know!
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @TerranAlleen & @vondrostes

The most surprising thing about dating Harry was just how similar it felt to dating a girl.

Xander hadn’t mentioned his thoughts on that to Harry, however. It seemed insensitive somehow, though he wasn’t sure how to articulate why exactly it felt that way. But he thought about it a lot.

Their relationship had been a slow crawl to whatever they’d become now: some undefined attempt at transitional exclusivity. Things were getting serious. Harry had been the one to propose it; Xander was still too chickenshit to think about the logistics of what he was doing with Harry in the first place.

Xander didn’t have any illusions about pinning Harry down for good. He wasn’t naïve enough for that. He knew enough about the rumors in the tabloids about Harry’s dating life and enough about the truth of them to realize that whatever he and Harry had likely wouldn’t be forever. And he was pretty sure that he was okay with that.

It was hard not to be, if you were lucky enough for Harry to turn his attentions on you. Why wouldn’t Xander take what he could get?

Still, the road leading to where they were now hadn’t exactly been smooth. When they’d met, Xander had thought nothing of the gangly pop star he’d only vaguely recognized from magazine covers in the grocery store. Harry had been nice enough, charming for sure, and they’d exchanged numbers by the end of the night, with Xander barely giving it a second thought.

He’d been surprised when Harry called him up to invite him out for drinks a few days later, and shell-shocked when Harry had very pointedly propositioned him only an hour after Xander had arrived. He’d said yes, of course, despite being terrified and utterly out of his depth, but he hadn’t regretted it.

The sex had taken some getting used to, and they certainly weren’t having as much of it as either Xander or Harry would have liked, but the actual experience of dating Harry itself? Not that much different than going shopping or out for coffee with any of his ex-girlfriends.

Some part of Xander had expected it to feel like dating one of his housemates in college, or dating himself, even. He wasn’t anticipating the sheer amount of shopping Harry liked to do, or the way he mainlined Starbucks like the caffeine had been prescribed to him by a doctor. Xander definitely wasn’t expecting Harry’s taste in movies, but he could at least appreciate the fact that Harry showed more of an interest in (American) football than any girl he’d dated in the past ever had.

The clothes had taken the most getting used to. Xander understood it, though, or at least he thought he did. Musicians were all about being flashy and fashionable, right? It was part of the persona. He didn’t really get why none of Harry’s bandmates seemed to abide by the same philosophy, Harry looking relatively unique in his glittery heeled boots, women’s skinny jeans, and flashy patterned shirts (that Xander eventually found out were also women’s fits), but Xander could still see the logic behind wanting to look stylish and unique.

Which was to say that when Xander walked back into the hotel room he was sharing with Harry after making a lengthy drive uptown to get some extraordinarily expensive toiletries at Harry’s behest, the last thing he expected to find was Harry sitting naked in the jacuzzi tub with paint on his nails and shaving cream slathered along his legs.

“Oh,” Harry said as Xander paused in the doorway, carefully setting the razor down on the edge of the tub. “I thought you’d be gone longer.”

“Did you want me to be gone longer?” Xander still hadn’t moved, too afraid of sending an unintentional message by either stepping toward Harry or away.

“Well…kind of?” Harry admitted. His leg was still extended along the edge of the tub, half-shaved and glistening, and Xander kind of wanted to put his tongue on that newly smooth skin.

He felt his cheeks flushing and knew that he and Harry were probably matching now. “I can go,” he said, forcing the words out through the suddenly too-small opening of his throat, “if you want.”

Harry shook his head. “You’re here now,” he remarked, glancing back down at his leg and swiping the razor across it for the first time since Xander had interrupted, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t altogether accustomed to the act. “The surprise is already ruined, so you might as well just stay.” He looked up at Xander again with something resembling panic in his eyes. “I mean, if you want to.”

Xander stepped into the bathroom and sat down heavily on the toilet lid, folding his hands in his lap. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to address this, but he figured he had to say something about it. Clearly, Harry had been planning on him finding out, but just—later.

“Is this something that you normally do?” Xander asked, hoping it didn’t come across as judgmental. He was trying to be open-minded, really. He was just surprised.

“No. Well, I mean—” Harry paused, made a face that Xander couldn’t interpret. “No, not normally, no.”

“Okay.” Xander watched in silence as Harry finished his leg and then carefully moved onto his toes, scraping every last bit of hair away. His toenails were painted already, a glossy opal that shimmered as he moved. Now that Xander was paying attention, he noticed that Harry’s fingers matched.

When he finished, Harry set down the razor and looked up at Xander, a little bashful. “I know I told you to stay,” he started, “but I kind of still need to shave _down there_ and I’m not really sure I want you to watch that.”

Xander wasn’t sure why that was embarrassing to Harry when they’d seen each other in far more compromising positions already, but if it made him more comfortable, Xander was happy to give him some space.

“You want me to, um, do a lap?” Xander asked, a little bit unsure.

“Yeah,” Harry replied. He looked relieved. “Yeah, that works.”

Xander did three laps, to be perfectly precise, around the outside of the hotel they were staying in for the night before Harry was whisked off to another city to perform there instead. By the time Xander climbed the stairs and returned to their room, he was a little sweaty and a lot out of breath. Harry was nowhere to be seen when he walked inside.

“H?” he called out cautiously. Maybe Harry had changed his mind about this whole thing. Xander wasn’t sure if that option would be a relief or a disappointment yet.

“Just a second!” came Harry’s muffled voice from within the bathroom.

Xander walked further inside and sat on the edge of the bed to wait. It was another minute or two before the bathroom door opened to reveal Harry, still naked but with his long hair now braided over one shoulder, peeking his head out to look around the room for Xander.

When Harry’s eyes alighted on the other man, he smiled, looking relieved. He pushed the door open a little more and exited cautiously, like he still wasn’t sure that Xander wouldn’t get up and run in the other direction as soon as he made a move.

Now that he’d stepped out of the bathroom, Xander could see that Harry wasn’t actually naked after all, but instead was wearing a pair of bubblegum pink lace panties that just barely concealed his soft penis under the straining fabric. Xander wasn’t sure if he was supposed to notice that, so he lifted his eyes to meet Harry’s piercing green ones instead, and instinctively spread his legs as Harry got closer.

When Harry knelt down between Xander’s feet, putting his hands on Xander’s thighs and staring up at him in a picture of faux-innocence, Xander finally noticed that Harry was wearing makeup, too—just enough to accentuate his features, but not enough to be noticeable from a distance.

For whatever reason, that was the thing that really made this all _real_ , more so than the nail polish, the shaving, the panties even.

“You’re not doing this because of me, are you?” Xander asked quietly. He reached out to gently cradle Harry’s face between his palms. “Because you know I don’t—it was fine, before.”

A deep crease formed in the middle of Harry’s forehead. “No, I just…I mean, I hoped you’d like it, but….”

Xander regretted speaking up at all, and quickly tried to backpedal. “I just don’t want you to feel like you should change anything, you know, because of me,” he said lamely. “I just want you to be yourself.”

“This is me,” Harry replied quietly, looking so hurt that Xander suddenly wanted to hurl himself out of a window just so he wouldn’t have to face the consequences of opening his big, dumb, stupid mouth.

“Okay,” Xander said instead, after remembering that he was an adult, and that this was an adult relationship that required trust and communication. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Harry said evenly, and there was a look of determination replacing the wounded frown that had been there previously. He scooted forward, pushing his face into Xander’s crotch, forcing the older man to let go of Harry’s face to brace himself against the mattress instead. “I want you to fuck me.”

Xander’s dick was fully on board with that plan, even if his brain knew that the smart thing to do would be to tell Harry to slow down so they could figure out just what this was about.

“Okay,” Xander replied, giving in far too easily. Saying no to Harry had always been a bit impossible. “Whatever you want.”

They started off the way they usually did: Xander’s fingers in Harry’s hair and Harry’s mouth on his cock. Harry sucked dick like he was starving for it, and sometimes that’s all they did—Harry dragging out a blowjob for nearly an hour before swallowing Xander down to the base and letting him come down Harry’s throat with a guttural scream. Somehow, it was always Xander who had the sore throat afterward.

They both knew this wouldn’t be the main event this time. But Harry was no less enthusiastic as he bobbed up and down on Xander’s cock, alternating between deep enveloping swallows and teasing licks along the underside, slicking his lips with spit and pre-cum until Xander couldn’t even see straight.

He finally yanked Harry off without a word of warning, feeling an insistent pressure at the base of his spine. It would be just Xander’s luck to have this afternoon ruined by prematurely coming on Harry’s face when he knew that was the last thing Harry wanted—at least today.

“Still good?” Xander checked, mostly because he could never shake the persistent fear that Harry didn’t really want to be here, with him, after all.

But Harry nodded, his eyes glazed over the way they always did when he gave head.

Xander helped him up onto the bed and allowed Harry to position himself doggy-style, his braid flopping to the side as he rocked forward, slumping down onto his front with his face pressed into the pillow while leaving his ass hanging in the air in front of Xander. Xander scrambled to grab the lube from their bags, not wanting to waste any time.

When he turned to face Harry again, Xander was suddenly transported back in time to the first time they’d done this, when he’d been all fumbling fingers and embarrassed uncertainty, letting Harry guide him through all the parts he was new to. He knew Harry’s body better now, but there was still that same sense of insecurity that came with stepping outside your comfort zone in bed.

Xander leaned over him and pressed a quick kiss to the nape of Harry’s neck, imbuing it with all the gratitude and respect he had for Harry for trusting him with all of this.

When he drew back again, Xander settled onto the mattress between where Harry’s feet were extended. He reached for the hem of Harry’s panties, intending to pull them off, but Harry jerked away from him unexpectedly.

“Like this,” Harry said, pulling them to the side to show Xander what to do. He let go once Xander’s fingers replaced his, quickly settling back into position on the bed.

Xander pushed the panties out of the way again and gently spread Harry open a bit, wanting to get a look at all the newly-exposed skin, fresh and pink under his gaze. Xander could smell the lube Harry must have used on himself before he’d left the bathroom—peaches—could see the slick shine at the very center of him.

Xander squeezed out a bit more lube onto his fingers anyway, because he knew the flavored kind wouldn’t last for long. He was methodical as he stretched Harry open, because they were both already hard and there was no real reason to draw this out if Harry wanted Xander to actually fuck him.

Methodical or not, Harry was always loud when Xander fingered him. Xander wasn’t sure if he was putting on a show or not, but the sound of Harry’s drawn out whines as Xander pushed and probed inside him always got him hot. And sometimes Harry came just from Xander’s fingers, so he supposed it didn’t really matter one way or another if Harry was playing up his own reactions.

This time though, Harry was quiet. So quiet that it scared Xander, and he started to pull out automatically so he could figure out what was wrong.

“No,” Harry said out of nowhere.

Xander paused. “No?” he questioned.

Harry pushed back against his hand, forcing Xander’s fingers deeper. “Want you to keep going,” he said meaningfully. His face was flushed a deep scarlet as he peered back at Xander from where his head was still lying against the pillow.

He was clearly expecting something Xander wasn’t cognizant of, though, and no matter how hard Xander tried, he couldn’t figure it out. He pulled his fingers out quickly, ignoring the muted sound of protest emanating from Harry’s throat.

“Babe, I’m sorry, but I just don’t know what you want from me,” Xander told him helplessly, watching as Harry buried his face even deeper into the pillow in response. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

It was a few seconds before Harry finally freed himself enough to reply. “This was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not stupid,” Xander reassured him. “I’m just confused.”

Harry sniffled, turning his head back to the side so he could glance at Xander over his shoulder. He was still lying face-down on the bed with his ass in Xander’s face, but that didn’t seem to be on the list of his main concerns at the moment.

“It feels bad to talk about it,” Harry confessed in a small voice.

Xander rubbed soothingly at his calf. “I’m not going to be upset or laugh at you, I swear to god. I just want to make this good for you.”

“You do, I just—” Harry let out a suppressed noise of frustration. “I guess I just thought if I got dressed up like this that you’d treat me like a…like a girl.”

Xander counted to five before replying. He was terrified of saying the wrong thing. “Is that what you want?” he asked, still petting Harry’s leg in an attempt at comfort. “For me to treat you like a girl?”

Harry nodded and tucked his face against the pillow again, hiding from Xander’s gaze.

Xander stared down at where his fingers were rubbing over Harry’s smooth skin, and then lifted his hand, carefully tracing up the back of Harry’s thigh to the curve of his ass before settling there with his fingertips tucked just beneath the hem of Harry’s panties.

“Want to try again?” he asked, not sure what answer to expect.

Harry nodded enthusiastically and moaned, bucking against Xander’s hand.

This time, when Xander pulled Harry’s panties to the side, he was entrenched in an entirely different mindset. He pressed in with his middle finger first, adding his ring finger shortly thereafter, like he would have with a girl, letting muscle memory do the work for the first time since he’d started sleeping with Harry.

There was something freeing about that, and maybe once Xander had come he would feel bad about it, but it was nice to get his fingers inside Harry and not worry that he was doing something wrong. And from the sounds now coming out of Harry’s mouth, he wasn’t.

“Did you play with yourself while I was gone?” Xander asked out of nowhere as he leisurely played with Harry’s hole, not wanting to rush anything about this. The smell of peaches still lingered in the back of his nose.

Xander felt Harry tense up a little at the unexpected question and gently rubbed at the small of his back with his left hand, trying to get him to relax again. Xander was usually too unsure of himself, too overwhelmed to really get into dirty talk. This was new territory for them, just like everything else.

“Yeah, I was—” Harry gasped a little as Xander pushed in ever deeper. “Wanted to be ready for you.”

“Got yourself wet for me?” Xander asked hesitantly, not anticipating the way Harry clenched around his fingers in response.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. He rocked back a little on Xander’s fingers. “Got my pussy so wet for you.”

Xander’s hand stilled. He felt his face heat up, knew the embarrassment was plain as day on his cheeks when Harry propped himself up on his elbows to see what was wrong.

“We don’t have to do this if you aren’t comfortable,” Harry said, sounding a little bit sad again, and god help him, but Xander refused to be the cause of that.

“No, it’s fine,” Xander replied, aware of the fact that he still had two fingers lodged inside of Harry’s body. “I’m just—nervous. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Harry’s eyes widened a little even as he relaxed. “Say whatever you want,” he replied encouragingly. “I like it. I like what you said. About me being wet.”

“Okay.” Xander started to move his fingers again, harder this time, pressing in on every out-stroke until Harry couldn’t hold himself up any longer and slumped back down onto his face again, shuddering. “God,” he murmured, almost to himself, “you’re fucking dripping.”

Harry let out a hideous whine and jerked hard against Xander’s hand. “Please,” he begged, even though he hadn’t asked for anything.

“You want my cock?” Xander guessed, but he didn’t give Harry time to answer. “Want my cock in your tight pussy, splitting you open?” He twisted his fingers viciously, catching against Harry’s prostate as he dragged them out again, making him almost scream.

“Yes,” Harry cried. “Please. Please.”

Xander pulled out his fingers, spared a second to slick himself up with more lube, and then pushed into Harry with his cock, gasping at the almost painful tightness at his entrance.

Xander set a slow rhythm at first, savoring the easy slide of his cock inside Harry now that they’d gotten past the initial penetration. He waited until Harry started to push back, insistently, before speeding up. Xander didn’t mind taking charge normally, but he figured it was better to let Harry set the pace this time, since they were trying something completely new.

The lace crotch of Harry’s panties chafed against the right side of Xander’s cock with every movement, but Xander couldn’t bring himself to care now that he was sheathed in the plush warmth of Harry’s body. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the drag of his cock along Harry’s insides as he pushed in and out with forceful, deliberate strokes.

“Harder,” Harry gasped only a few seconds later.

Xander gripped his hips roughly, digging his fingers into the soft fatty skin, and slammed into Harry until he could barely catch his breath from the exertion.

“My cock feel good inside you?” he asked as he hammered into Harry’s body. It was the exact kind of cheesy porno line Xander had always claimed to hate, but with Harry underneath him, around him, he couldn’t think of anything hotter.

“Yeah, please,” Harry whined incoherently. His accent was always stronger during sex. “I’m so full,” he slurred out.

Xander instinctively reached down under Harry to pull out his cock, intending to stroke him off, only to remember what Harry had told him he wanted. So he pulled his hand back, hoping that Harry was worked up enough that he could make himself come without Xander’s help, because the last thing Xander wanted was to shatter the immersion of whatever scenario Harry had created in his own mind for them.

He didn’t need to worry, as it turned out. Harry was babbling after less than five minutes of rough, continuous fucking, hard enough that Xander could already feel the strain in his legs and back. He’d be sore tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, not with Harry wiggling like a speared fish on the end of his cock, sounding like the audio track from a porno all on his own now.

“Gonna come,” Harry gasped. “Wanna be on my back, wanna—”

“Okay,” Xander said, pulling out immediately with a tight hand circled around the base of his dick, squeezing hard to keep himself from accidentally coming as well.

Xander rolled Harry over and bent him half until his knees were practically touching his ears before reaching back down to pull his panties to the side again.

It was more difficult like this; Harry had to tilt his hips up at an awkward angle so that Xander could even get back inside of him, but he moaned prettily when Xander pushed in and threw his head back against the pillow, flyaway curls splayed out around his head like a halo.

Face to face like this, Xander couldn’t see anything but Harry’s face, pretty enough with makeup that he could actually believe he was fucking a girl.

It only took a couple more minutes for Harry to get close again, the open-mouthed gasping a surefire sign that he was dangling on the precipice of orgasm.

“Want you to come, baby,” Xander coaxed, knowing that Harry was close enough now that it would only take the slightest nudge to push him over. “Want you to come while I’m fucking your pussy.”

That did it—Harry’s face going completely lax even while the rest of his body clenched up tight. Xander could feel the warmth of his come spreading across the front of his panties, smearing up against Xander’s belly as he fucked into Harry without pausing for even a second. He knew Harry liked the too-muchness of being fucked right after orgasm, the pain-pleasure of the oversensitivity.

“You soaked right through your pretty little panties,” Xander said as he fought against his own breathlessness. He drove hard inside Harry’s body as he spoke, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. “Never had a girl squirt on my cock before.”

Harry let out a stifled cry as his hole fluttered around Xander’s dick, the aftershocks from his orgasm going on for so long it was like he was coming a second time immediately after.

Xander could smell the tang of Harry’s come mixing with the lingering scent of peaches and the crispness of their mingled sweat, and all of it, combined with the sound of Harry’s little grunts every time Xander pushed into him, had him quickly approaching the edge.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Xander groaned, forcing himself to slow down even though every muscle in his body wanted him to move faster, to release the pressure he could feel bubbling up inside him. “Where do you want it, babe? Your tummy? Your tits?”

He was still letting instinct doing the talking for him, but even though Harry had already come and was still soft inside his lace underwear, he gasped loudly and tightened up on Xander’s cock once again.

But he didn’t ask Xander to come on his tits.

“I want you to come inside me,” Harry said, throwing his arms around Xander’s neck like he was already trying to keep him from pulling away.

“What?” Xander replied. His hips kept moving of their own accord even as he blinked blearily down at Harry, wondering if he’d heard him correctly.

They’d only recently switched to barebacking on the regular, but even then, Harry didn’t like the clean-up afterward because of his busy schedule, and he usually preferred it when Xander came on his face or body anyway. He thought it was hot.

The Harry underneath him right now thought differently. “Please,” Harry whined, practically writhing on Xander’s cock as he fucked into him with an unsteady rhythm. “I want you to come inside my pussy,” he begged. “Want you to knock me up.”

Xander might’ve lost consciousness for a minute. He wasn’t really sure, but as soon as Harry finished speaking, his vision whited out, and he was coming in hot pulses deep inside Harry’s body. His hips jerked feebly against Harry’s ass a few more times, and then Xander’s arms gave out. He slumped down heavily on top of Harry with a groan, eliciting a surprised squeak from the boy underneath.

“You’re crushing me,” Harry complained, prompting Xander to roll off of Harry and onto his back, his dick slipping free from Harry’s body in the process.

“That was…” Xander said a bit dazedly.

“Too much?”

When Xander turned his head, Harry was staring at him with a worried expression. He reached over to smooth away the lines around Harry’s eyes with a gentle brush of his thumbs. “Hot,” he said scooting in close to press a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips.

Xander knew that they should probably talk about what had just happened—why Harry had said what he did; why Xander had liked it so damn much—but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin this moment by wiping the hazily sated expression off of Harry’s smiling face as the younger boy stared back at him, their faces still just centimeters apart, close enough to breathe the same air.

Xander didn’t think he ever wanted to move again.

Harry, apparently, felt otherwise. “I’m gonna ruin the sheets,” he said with a resigned groan, already rolling away from Xander toward the edge of the bed.

“Don’t want you to leave,” Xander pouted, already reverting back to his normal teddy-bear self in the aftermath of their sexual experimentation. He caught Harry’s hand before he could get out of bed, keeping him there.

“Then come with me,” Harry replied with a futile tug of his hand.

“Shower?” Xander asked hopefully. He liked washing Harry down probably more than any sane person should.

“Only if you feel like holding me up for twenty minutes.”

Xander frowned. “Bath?” he suggested instead. “We could finally put that jacuzzi to good use.”

“I already did,” Harry reminded him.

“If the bubbles weren’t on, then it doesn’t count.”

Harry hummed contemplatively, which meant he’d already decided to say agree. “I suppose you’re right.”

Xander had to suppress the urge to punch the air with his fist, like he was twelve instead of in his thirties. Sometimes it surprised him how much Harry seemed like the older one in their relationship.

“Come on, then,” Harry said, finally managing to roll out of bed with Xander right behind him.

In the calm tranquility of their bath, the sharp fragments of this thing they hadn’t given a name to yet started to poke through the skin. Xander squashed it down for as long as he could, wanting nothing more than to enjoy this one quiet moment before they got caught up in the chaos of Harry’s hectic lifestyle once more.

But they couldn’t just ignore it forever.

“We should probably talk about things,” Xander said quietly as he traced a line of foamy soap up Harry’s forearm, to the crease at his elbow, “before we do this again.”

Harry went very still. “You want to do it again?” he said in a small voice, tinged with faint traces of hopefulness, like he wasn’t even sure he was allowed to want this for more than just one night.

“Of course I do,” Xander reassured him. He couldn’t keep his hands off of Harry, even now after he’d come so hard he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go again for at least a week. He squeezed Harry’s knee under the water and dragged a hand across his hairless thigh. “Wanna do whatever makes you happy. And if making you happy means we have really, really good sex, then that’s just a bonus.”

Harry tipped his head against Xander’s chest, letting him feel the way the younger man’s lips were curved up into a soft smile against his skin. “I don’t deserve you,” he said with a quiet laugh.

“You deserve everything,” Xander told him as he tucked Harry’s head under his chin and sighed. “I really, really like you,” he remarked a bit dreamily, only aware of the words just as they were slipping out of his mouth.

Harry’s smile widened. “I really, really like you, too.”


End file.
